


Wave the Flag

by trascendenza



Category: Threshold
Genre: M/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-16
Updated: 2007-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-04 01:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/pseuds/trascendenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drinking brings out a different side of Sean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wave the Flag

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the porn battle (fourth), prompt: door ([mirror](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/317183.html?thread=14373887#t14373887)).

"I never thought I'd have to tell _you_ this… but you've had way too much to drink."

"Fuck you, Ramsey." Sean slammed down his shot glass and signaled for another unsteadily.

"That's actually not on tonight's agenda, unfortunately for you. And your big tough guy act doesn't scare me, Cavennaugh. We're going back to the hotel where at least you can drink yourself into a stupor in private."

Before he could argue, Arthur grabbed his wallet and went out to call a cab. Sean trudged after him, growling.

Back at the hotel, Arthur switched into a mode that few of his co-workers knew about—growing up with younger siblings had taught him at a young age how to take care of someone who needed help. He got Sean brushing his teeth, out of his boots and gear ("You have _three_ guns? Jesus Christ, don't you think that's overkill?") and into a pretty good facsimile of working order by the time he was done with him.

"All right, soldier-boy, time for bed," he said, throwing back the covers on the bed and nodding his head for Sean to get in.

"I'm not a little kid, you asshole," Sean slurred, but he sat down.

"Yeah? Well stop acting like one, then. Shit, Cavennaugh—what's the point of drinking if you're not going to have any fun?"

The expected return fire didn't come. Sean seemed to sink in on himself, deflated.

Arthur, glancing at the door with a longing sigh, hopped up onto the bed. He put a hand on the small of Sean's back, trying to be comforting like he imagined Molly would.

"Look—you didn't let me ditch out on this project. So, whether I like it or not, I'm going to keep you blowing things up for Threshold."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to comfort me?"

"Uh, depends. How do you define comforting?"

Sean laid back on the bed. Arthur, in for a penny in for a pound, propped himself up on his elbows beside Sean's head.

"C'mon, Cavennaugh. Spill. Quiet brooding is Baylock's shtick; it doesn't work on you."

"Spill what?"

He sighed, and spoke slowly, like he was talking to a pre-calculus student. "What I can do to convince you to stay."

"You really wanna know?" Sean's expression was intense, even for him and for second, Arthur did wonder.

"You tell me, Mr. Mysterioso."

And then—oh, holy Christ, this was _so_ not in the plan—he was being kissed, Sean's hand tight on the back of his neck, and Sean's mouth domineering his in a very, well… he had to admit, physically pleasurable way.

He tried to break away, his body responding on auto-pilot and cock sitting up like an obedient terrier and saying, _hello, Cavennaugh_ while the rest of his brain was breaking out in a lovely rendition of the tune _really bad idea, really bad idea, you'll regret this in the mo-o-orning._

Sean was having none of it, those big bomb-wiring hands grappling all over him, lips pressing in a demand that was impossible to say no to, even not factoring in the sixty or so pounds Sean had on him. And, _shit_, who knew military men were trained on how to divide and conquer with just their tongues? That was precisely what Sean was managing, here—deep, cock-tingling kisses, followed split-seconds later by hard bites at Arthur's neck, and then (crap, when did his shirt get ripped open?) that same tongue was making its way straight to the white flag of surrender straining against Arthur's jeans.

"Cave—Cavenn—" Stupid fucking parents, Arthur cursed, passing on a name with so many goddamned _syllables_ in it, "Sean!"

Sean, his typical responsive self, grunted. But, thank God, he paused in his all-too-effective _incursus linguae_.

"Is this a good idea?"

Sean didn't even take a moment to consider. "No."

"_Oo_-kay. Then why are we doing this?" For the sake of this conversation, Arthur pretended that his cock wasn't currently screaming bloody murder at him for delaying the long-awaited and successful conquering.

Sean raised his head, and Arthur immediately recognized that look.

"This is like the door thing, isn't it? Lemme guess. My choices are… get sucked off willingly or you'll immobilize me with your Vulcan-tongue-death-grip?"

"Pretty much. Or I could see if that cell is still available."

Arthur put his arms behind his head, letting the flag fly high.

"Carry on."


End file.
